Looks like they’re plotting something bird-brained.

The log seemed to serve as their stage—a quiet perch for two fantails that appeared more curious than cautious. One tilted its head slightly, as if gauging my intentions. The other remained still, a tiny sentinel against the sprawling green behind them. Their feathers caught the afternoon light just enough to reveal subtle patterns, a quiet artistry of nature. I stood there longer than I thought I would, watching their small gestures and feeling oddly at peace with their unhurried existence. The reserve around me seemed to hold its breath as if unwilling to disturb this moment of avian serenity.